My eyes widen. “It’s all Greek to me,” I whisper under my breath.

Sure enough, The
Apology by Plato is in Greek.

My eyes dart across the page, looking for a word or phrase to grasp onto. Unable to
find a familiar word, I take a deep breath. The Greek letters jumble into incoherent
words and I am left to the mercy of an incomplete translation. I shake my head,
unsure of what to do next. My eyes drag from one word to another, heavy with defeat.
Upon the sixth word, however, they stop. My initial scan of the text left me negligent
of a simple word meaning “number.” Passion overwhelms my senses. “Number”
becomes the most important word of the clause, providing context to the adjacent
words. I turn to the lexicon and search for words that fit into a coherent translation.
With the last word, I feel satisfaction and pride. The whirlwind of emotions repeats:
Confusion, passion, satisfaction. Before the bell rings, I finish translating 20 lines
of The Apology.

I was fifteen when I successfully translated The Apology, and soon after, I fell in love
with translation. Through translation, I learned the value of perseverance and hard
work; it even helped me convey ideas in different mediums such as figure skating.

On a bright January morning, cold wind slapped against my face, chastising me for
falling again. I stood up and brushed thin sheets of ice off of my knees. A shock of
pain went through my body as I lightly touched a new bruise. I contemplated defeat.
In the midst of choreographing my next program, I speculated the translation of
music into skating. I yearned to convey every pitch and emotion in a visual
performance, so I listened to Chopin once again and closed my eyes. Upon hearing
the cadenza, I went back on the ice, picked up speed and turned my body. Leaping
from the ground, I wrapped my arms around my torso and spun one, two, three
times. My body descended and a sharp skid sounded the air. I smiled, waiting in
anticipation for the next jump. That day, I translated every note into a jump until my
body understood the music.

Translation has become my frame for viewing life and now I am using it to translate
passion into activism.

In July 2018, part of my activism was conservation focused. Recognized as a

Discovery Guide Leader, I was chosen to lead a Mugwort removal cleanup at Meadow
Lake. The tedious logistical process of scheduling a time, obtaining a permit, and
learning the proper removal process made July a strenuous month. Still seeking to
translate my plan into action, I persevered with the importance of conservation in
mind.

Finally, the day came. Twenty pairs of eyes watched me as I pointed out Mugwort
along the shore. The hot sun hit my back as I pushed the shovel deeper in the soil.
The ground released its hold on the plant and I picked it up by the stem. I walked
throughout the shore and helped each person learn the proper removal technique.
Together we were able to eliminate 4.2 pounds of Mugwort. I was proud of everyone
and myself. I learned the benefits of conservation, translated that knowledge into a
productive plan to remove an invasive species, and spread that knowledge by leading
my eager group of volunteers.
Despite translating The Apology by Plato years ago, the lessons I learned from
translation continue to thrive in my actions today. Just as I translated texts from
Greek to English, I will convert more songs into programs, and I will change more
plans into action. Although there are still many things in the world that are all Greek
to me, I strive to learn and translate my knowledge into action that creates change.